Enlightenment
by fleeting.ideas
Summary: Assuredly, their friendship had been broken by this new occurrence. She resigned herself that this was her time, the sun would bring with it what it may, and this was still precious to her. [One last HHr piece]


Summary: Assuredly, their friendship had been broken by this new occurrence. She resigned herself that this was her time, the sun would bring with it what it may, and this was still precious to her.

Disclaimer: No, I am not J.K. Rowling. No, I do not own "Harry Potter". Nor, it's characters, the plot, the magic, or the detailed universe it's become. Shocker, eh?

- - - - -

Somehow they managed to open the door, now acting together as one. Flooded into the messy darkness, they continued their frenzy. Hermione shrugged off her shirt as Harry grasped her now bare shoulders. They continued, progressing rapidly.

More rapidly then they had thought possible in such a brief moment. In a single night alone, in one meal's time, they had ceased to exist in the perilous limbo that they had come to know to their own relationship. In which, they were not friends any longer, too far gone for that. But they had never stepped into the plateau of lovers. They had hinted towards it, even tried in a way, and the imaginings of an occasion had nearly claimed them both. And here they were. Alone.

They had lost themselves. Lost themselves in the moment. In each other. In their desire.

The same thought hit them both, causing a mutual pause in their actions. Sharing a look, countless words, mostly in the form of questions they'd never been brave enough to ask, swam through their brains. In the next moment, they reached the companion brain, with no assistance from any magic save that of power of need.

Is this what we want? There's no coming back from this, we'll never be the same. Are we going to fast? We just started. Is this right? Can we do this? What'll they say?

Finding the answers, or finding they no longer wanted one, they plunged forward into the carnal territory of this new relationship. Stumbling deeper into the room, using the moonlight as their guide (though it failed them, their resilience to such earthly matters as that of annoyances or confusion soon picked up). They made their way to the bed, the final spot on this nightly conquest into new land.

- - - - -

They feigned sleep after finishing. _Was that what you're supposed to do?_ Not entirely comfortable in "cuddling", afraid to break "this thing" they had, they settled for lying facing each other. However, when they both grew tired of pretending to sleep, they watched each other. No speaking, still not touching, they simply watched. Not quite admiring, not quite contemplating, as they were both far from the point where they could think again.

Hermione scooted a little closer, and shut her eyes, she was content. Harry took this as a sign, and began to drift into an uneasy and irregular sleep.

- - - - -

When Hermione stirred again, she found it was still night. And she could no longer bear to sleep.

The night had taken a drastic turn of events; one she had never dreamed possible. A few hours ago they were just having dinner, a normal occasion. And somehow, it had turned into _this_?

How had they come from best friends to whatever they were now in such a short time? Truly, she would no longer to be able to think of him as Harry, her best friend since age eleven. Oh, no, at this point he was certainly the man she would spend the rest of her life with. To be honest, since that fateful day on the Hogwarts express she had known, deep down, that this man would be influential in her own life. And as their friends started and blossomed into this amazing thing that was more precious to her then most everything else, she knew that not for a single day in her life she would go without being "with" this man, even if it was just in spirit. No matter what happened.

Of course, she began to trip over her thoughts. What if this ended it? Could they go on being friends, just as they had? Certainly not. Laying in Harry's bed, gazing on his peacefully sleeping form, she hoped with every part of being she had that they would progress, that this was what was to come. She did not wish to stop; she had wanted him like this, to be a couple for a long time. She wanted to know him and feel him and become him. She adored him, and she thought she might even love him.

But she knew that she could not want him any longer if he didn't want her back. She knew that she deserved better then that; and that Harry deserved to be with the one he wanted. If that tonight had been a mistake, if he said it was, then she would accept that-- accept him thinking that, it was not a mistake in her mind and it never would be. It had been too magical, to good, it felt too right to have been a mistake. She wished he wouldn't, but when the sun showed across her, in his bed, and it brought with it illumination and enlightened him of his misstep, then that would be that.

She feared the possibility, not for just her own desires, but also because if that were to be the case, what would become of them? Would they cut out their alone time? Would they stop talking? Assuredly, their friendship had been broken by this new occurrence.

Hermione stopped herself-- she was being Hermione. She could no longer think of this, tonight had been a time of actions and that's what she was left with.

She resigned herself that this was her time, the sun would bring with it what it may, and this was still precious to her.

- - - - -

Frankly, she found it weird that she was staring at Harry. She knew, of course, that there was no one else he would prefer stare at him while he was sleeping, but that didn't help matters. She felt strange for doing it, near guilty.

This silence stretching out into the house, and further on into the rest of the world left her to think that this magic that they _must have _created in their coming together in passion had transported them into a new world entirely. One where they could be alone and together, cease to worry about appearances, about loved one's opinions, about not being caught, and the reality of a working relationship, or it's dangers and threats of failure.

The silence was crushing into her, tearing away her senses and coherent thoughts. She longed for it to stop, broken by something. She wanted, needed, to know that this would last into the morning.

She had learned a lot about Harry, she had learned Harry Potter, but in the back of her mind, one thing pestered her. How light a sleeper was he? It was one of the things you wouldn't ask a schoolmate, unless it came up in a conversation, by some rare chance. It wasn't generally something you thought about.

And yet here she was. In his bed, inches away from him. They were not touching, and maybe that made it worse, she couldn't be too sure. And she feared she might wake him; break him from the tranquility he could only get from sleep now.

She longed to break down the walls. The one between them now, and the one he was continually building around his person. To protect his self, but also to protect anyone who decided to dance too close to the danger of Harry Potter. Hermione had been making considerable progress in tearing this wall down, and they had worked together, subconsciously, to build a wall around them both. One that showed they wanted to have nothing to do with you-- not now, not in this togetherness they craved. Alas, nothing was easy for him, or concerning him.

But still...

She decided, in the delirium of a life altering, confusing, sleepless night, that she would touch him.

Nothing grandiose, nothing even terribly romantic. She would simply trace the line in his bare chest, the one that protected his heart and innards and ran through (occasionally invisible) his body, the human body.

She reached out, her finger trembled. She rallied up her infamous courage, she came closer. She touched skin, she dragged her finger down. His eyes fluttered open at the contact, and he flopped onto his back, leaving him to blink at the blank darkness of the ceiling. She gasped.

For a painful moment, Hermione heightening in her shame, Harry dazed from sleep, they were silent. Another moment, their eyes spoke for them, an apologetic glimmer in the chestnut's and quietly working emeralds.

Suddenly, without ever looking at her, Harry curled up slightly, and quickly scooted himself to the far side of the bed, towards the door. As if he was preparing himself for an onslaught.

Hermione was unsure of his meanings of his actions, but her maternal figure rose up bringing with it worry. Not for any waiting danger outside the door, but for him.

"Harry?" She spoke his name, shattering the tense air in the room, wishing to get some confirmation from him that he was okay.

No response. No movement, though Harry had begun to slightly tremble, in a way a best friend really only could spot. His eyes, had she been able to see them, were clenched shut.

She waited half a heart beat to consider if moving closer would be a good idea. She disregarded her hesitations, and shed any thoughts of his anger, as long as he was okay. She moved a few inches closer.

"Harry?" A few inches closer, her voice growing louder.

Nothing.

A few more inches, she moved to where he had lay when he was still asleep. The sheets were still warm from his slumber.

Moving closer, she began to notice how vulnerable he seemed.

Defenseless, his wall had been forgotten. His powers and strength, his courage and faith as well.

Her hand reached out-- hesitating again, now that she was as close as she would get, with mere creases in the sheets separating them. Her hand wanted to know he was okay, offer support that he seemed to need.

It placed itself, no longer working from her thoughts, but on her instinct and impulses, on his shoulder, and the other hand went to his other arm.

He immediately tensed up, leading her to think that she had made the wrong choice, she never had been intuitive-- "Harry?" her voice a mere whisper now -- and suddenly relaxed, stopped trembling. His heartbeat slowed and regulated, he took deep calming breaths.

She would have to say that he had been scared. In all the years, Harry had never been upfront with a fear, leaving Hermione to wonder another thing about her best friend.

He let out a relaxed sigh, as if the danger had passed. He quickly turned around, again, and pulled her close to him, embracing her. He buried himself in her waves of curls and the crook of her neck.

She was, for the countless time tonight, surprised. But began to embrace his head back, stroking his hair, and shushing him. It seemed that he needed it, and she seemed to do just that, whatever it was, when it really counted.

He further relaxed, and they sat there, holding each other, for several moments in silence again. Harry took a deep intake of breath, and moved back, but still holding her.

Hermione started, the logic roaring in her mind for a reason and something to quell the lessened, but ever the more present, apprehension. "Harry, what was--" She was interrupted.

His voice was steady and strong, solid. It spoke while looking over her shoulder, to nothing.

"I've always been 'the Light', you know? And I've carried that with me for a long time, even since I learned of the first War and Voldemort's reign and whatnot. He's been the Dark, or at least in the dark, all his life."

"Mhmm." Hermione nodded gently, as Harry encased her in a mildly clingy and assuredly protective hug.

"Ever notice how quick I always was to _lumos_ing? How I liked to sleep closer to any light and the door? And, you may not know this, but I never liked fully closing my canopy back at school."

She murmured her agreement again, while her brain whirled at where this was going.

"Ever since I was a child (the fateful and traumatic evening when I was one, is when I believe it really started) I've been afraid of the dark. As life has gone on, it's just grown. Being trapped in a dark, incredibly small closet for hours, sometimes days on end. Countless experiences in dark rooms where I was terrified and unsure of what new magic would be attacking. A dark mark in the night's sky..."

He faltered off, his voice slowing and quieting to a hush. Hermione knew, as she knew Harry, that that was not something he would easily admit. It was a heartfelt decision to tell her, to trust her and let her in.

"Tonight, has been the first time in a long while that I've felt safe. I felt safe in your arms, with you. Knowing you were here with me made it okay, made me feel protected." He looked her straight in the eye, as hers began to fill with the lightest of tears and her cheeks gave the faintest of blushes in the darkness. Modest to the core.

"There is no one on this Earth I trust more then you. I know that you'd give everything for me; though I really wish you wouldn't." He smiled, an offering smile, but one that held in an insecurity. As if admitting that, his fear and confidence in Hermione, made him any less of man. Made him any less astounding.

There are few words to say after such admittance, an assurance. Hermione settled for two simple ones that spoke loudly beneath, "I would." And then kissed him.

It was a soft, unsure kiss that held passion and faith. It held trust and beauty. It set off like a bomb, destroying the little remaining wall of Harry's. It brought them together, locking them in.

They smiled. They kissed. They hugged.

They felt the same way in the morning.

- - - - -

Author's Note: Ugh this has been in my head and on my desktop for forever, so I am finally done with it. After working all night of the early hours of the 20th, the day before the end. –Sniff- Probably the last thing that I end up writing before reading DH

Unless I put it off so much that I write something else small, trying to get every last HHr moment out before it is [possibly, likely? crushed in canon. I will survive in AUs and forgotten moments, however, I promise.

Oh, and a box of candy hearts to anyone that sees the "A Softer World" connection there at the end.

Also, it's a little rough because I need to get it out—so please forgive me. (I really can't decide if I think it turned out well or not)


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